Three Little Fishies
by authoressnebula
Summary: A series of disappearances from a pond is the reason they're there. However, the biggest thing they have to contend with now is a tiny toddler who's decided she's going to follow them with her single piece of vocab. Crack, humor, OFC of a little girl.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So. In case you hadn't guessed, this author is on crack of some type. There is no reasonable explanation for this._

* * *

Generally, Dean didn't mind being the scout that took a cursory look at the scene of the 'crime'. It meant he could stretch his legs, get out of the confining hotel room, and give Sam some peace. Kid was still adjusting to hunting, to sharing a tight and small space with someone who knew him possibly better than Sam himself did. Sam wouldn't ask for the space himself, but Dean knew he craved it. It was a big brother thing to know.

And generally, Dean liked walking around, because it meant women dressed in low cut shirts that all but begged your eyes to be directed there. The situation worked out for the both of them.

Generally. Today didn't fit into 'generally'.

For one, it had rained all morning, and was still sprinkling now. For another, there was a small breeze that was bringing in a cold draft, the kind that went straight through your shirts and into your skin. Despite the fact that it was in the low 70's, the cold wasn't expected, and Dean rubbed up and down on his arms to stop the goosebumps from rising.

He glared at the pond in front of him. There was nothing in the water that he could see. No weird prints around the base, no drag marks, nothing. People were still disappearing, though, all around the pond's general area, and appearing three to four days later dead, soaking wet, and slightly chewed on.

Sam was researching the bites from the coroner's images back in the hotel room. The warm, cozy, dry hotel room, and Dean shrugged his jacket on a little higher. Time to head back to the room; Sam'd had over a half hour to himself.

Generally, Dean'd give him at least an hour. Generally, however, it wasn't freezing-ass cold outside, and there were hot women wandering around.

The only woman Dean could see was the old, haggard one on the park bench who kept giving him the evil eye. More than time to head back to the room.

He bunched his arms in close to his sides, stuck his hands in his pockets, and headed back down the path towards the main street. A faint sound caught his attention, and he paused, trying to place it. It stopped seconds after he did, and he frowned, then continued on. The sound started up again, and Dean stopped once more, this time turning around to view the person following him.

Then he frowned and had to look down. Two big, blue eyes stared up at him hopefully, before the little lips parted and asked in a high, tiny voice, "Fissy?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at the little one. She couldn't have been more than three or four, tops. Her blonde hair was raised into two pigtails that were both short and wavy. The breeze swept through again, coaxing her tiny bangs into her face, and she impatiently pushed them away. "Fissy?" she said again.

"Uh, no fish here," Dean said, raising his hands to show her they were empty. "Go back to your mommy, kiddo."

He turned and walked away, and moments later, the sound of crunched pebbles started up again from behind him. He turned around again, and she diligently stopped, gazing up at him through her long lashes. "Fissy?" she asked again.

Right. "Okay honey, let's find your parents," Dean said cheerfully. He stepped back towards the park, and the little one trailed after. One small detour, and then he could get back to the hotel room with Sam.

* * *

The knock at the door made Sam pause at his laptop. Dean had a key, which meant it was either room service or someone else. Cautiously he rose, smoothing out the frown that had grown at the sound, and opened the door slightly.

Then he opened the door all the way, his frown returning, when he caught sight of his brother. "You forgot your key?" Sam asked. "I thought you took it with you."

"I did," Dean said, the frustrated smile on his face not fading away. "We have a guest."

Sam frowned further. "We do?"

Dean's answer was to step to Sam's right, revealing a small girl with two tiny pigtails. The little girl glanced up at Sam and blinked. "Fissy?" she asked.

Sam slowly swung his bewildered gaze over to Dean. "She won't say anything else," Dean grumbled, stepping into the room. The little one followed right behind him, leaving Sam standing in the doorway, still trying to figure out how to talk.

When he remembered how, the first word that came out was the intelligent, "Huh?"

Dean snorted and flopped back onto the bed. The little one took a seat on the floor opposite the bed, her floral pink skirt fanned out around her. She was gazing patiently at Dean, and Sam finally regained full use of his brain enough to shut the door. "Dean, who is she?"

"No clue," Dean muttered as he threw his arm over his eyes. "She kept following me around the park. I spent a good forty-five minutes extra out there, trying to find her parents. No one's seen her."

"And they just let you take her home with you," Sam finished, raising his eyebrow.

Dean lifted his arm enough to glare at him. "One, she wouldn't stop following me or saying that word of hers, and two, no one seemed to care except me. It's cold out there, she can't be more than three or four, and at least with us, I _know_ she'll be safe. It's not the smallest of towns, so I'm not really surprised no one knew who she was."

Sam bit his lip but was forced to agree. While the temperature wasn't close to freezing, and the little one _was_ wearing a pink coat, it was way too chilly out to leave someone so little exposed for so long. Sam had been surprised Dean had even left, but Dean had insisted. Personally, Sam thought it was because Dean was trying to give him space still, more than it was about looking at the place people had been disappearing. His big brother was sort of persistent that way.

Still...Sam glanced over at the little one still seated on the floor. She had her legs out in front of her, bright white tights a sharp contrast to her little black shoes. She was wiggling her feet and apparently amusing herself by it.

Cautiously Sam approached and crouched down near her. "She's too young to be in school yet," he decided. "No luck there."

"Perfect," Dean said with a long groan.

His groan managed to capture the attention of the little one, who immediately turned to Sam. "Fissy?" she asked.

"Fishy?" Sam asked back. "Is that what you're saying?"

His question went unnoticed, but his initial response certainly caught on. She laughed and clapped her hands, bouncing up and down slightly. "Fissy!" she exclaimed. "Fissy, fissy, fissy..."

"Great," Dean said, even as she continued repeating her word. "Now you've encouraged her."

* * *

She tapered off about ten minutes later, after Dean turned the television on and lifted her onto the bed facing the screen. "You're rotting her brain cells at too early an age," Sam complained, but not as heartily as he would've. Dean was fairly certain that anything which got the ever enthusiastic chorus of 'fissy' to stop made Sam pretty happy.

Dean gave him a knowing look. "You were watching at two, and you turned out okay. Shut up and don't bug her."

"We could play a game with her," Sam protested, and his tone was all Dean needed to hear to know he'd won.

"Only game I'd be willing to play with her and you is if we played hide and seek, and I got to hide. Go find some cartoons."

An hour later of research in both the creature and the little one yielded nothing. Sam couldn't make heads or tails out of the limited amount of knowledge they had to go on, and Dean couldn't find anyone who was missing a child. No one had put in any reports to the police, no preschool or daycare was missing one of their numbers.

Lunchtime rolled around, and the little one popped off the bed and over to Dean and Sam. "Fissy?" she asked, tilting her head in question. The coat had long since been shrugged off, which had revealed a long sleeved pink tee with teddy bears on the front.

"Lunch it is," Dean declared, rising quickly from the table. It was Sam's turn to give him a look that knew too much, but Dean didn't really care. Sam still had forty-five minutes with her to make up in order for him to match evenly with Dean's time. He crouched down in front of the little one, and watched her eyes track him all the way down. "What would you like to eat?"

"Fissy!" she stated with a small head bop and a large bright smile. From behind the laptop, Sam snorted, and Dean glanced up quick enough to spot the grin before Sam managed to hide it.

Yeah. More than past time for Sam to babysit her on his own. "Yeah, I don't think you want fish for lunch, kiddo." He directed his next words to Sam with a too sweet smile. "I'll be back, but I don't really know the town that well. So I might get a little lost."

There was no trace of a grin on Sam's face now. "You wouldn't," he said, voice low.

Dean merely collected his coat before leaning down next to the little one and saying, "Fishy."

Sam's heated glare and her enthusiastic, repeated chorus of "Fissy!" were both cut off by the door being shut behind him as he left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

The computer still wasn't yielding anything. Sam let his head flop forward onto his arm, staring blankly at the screen. The teeth marks were hard to see, and so far as Sam could tell, there was no history of violence on the land the city had been built on. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened anytime near the first disappearance, or the disappearances that had followed. No one had died violently around the time of the first disappearance, no one had gone missing. Just a single pond that was the size of a block, and not nearly a quarter as deep.

There was a tiny tug on his shirt, and Sam swiveled his head towards the source. Bright blue eyes stared back at him. "Fissy?" she asked plaintively.

"TV not very entertaining?" Sam asked, glancing around towards the screen. Some Japanese animation show was on, the character moving across a green lawn. "Don't blame you," he muttered.

There had to be something better for her than that. Unfortunately, she couldn't read, couldn't go outside, and her only attempt at speech was 'fissy'. Didn't make for great conversation.

When he moved his gaze back to her, however, her eyes were still locked on him with absolutely hope and trust. "Fissy?" she asked again.

Sam sighed and turned to the computer. "Okay, let's find you something to do." There had to be a website for little ones, right? Someplace they could play? Somewhere like...

Disney. He should've known.

"All right, you," Sam said. She was light enough, and with one swift lift he had her sitting on his knees in front of the laptop. "We're gonna pop some bubbles, okay?"

It was how Dean found them, ten minutes later, when he came back with lunch. She was giggling and shrieking with delight each time she popped one, and Dean merely raised an eyebrow at Sam, amusement obvious. "She seems to be enjoying herself," he said.

"TV sort of failed her," Sam said by way of explanation. He moved the mouse slightly once more, and her finger lifted accordingly almost to the top of her head. A moment of hesitation, before she plunged her finger down to the button on the mouse, which in turn popped the bubble on the screen. Another giggle resounded, and she bounced happily.

Sam winced, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Dean. "You all right?"

"Yeah, I just don't think my knees are supposed to endure constant bouncing," he admitted. It was keeping her happy though, and so far, he hadn't heard the word 'fissy' in over ten minutes. Sam was taking his miracles where he could.

"Yeah, I remember that," Dean said with a snort of amusement. Two bags that wafted a greasy aroma were set down on the other side of the table, but the two at the computer didn't really take notice. The little one was wrapped up in popping her bubbles, and Sam had his attention focused on his big brother.

"You did this with her earlier?" he asked, frowning slightly in confusion.

Dean paused, and the look on his face said he hadn't meant to let it slip. "Dean?" Sam pressed.

Dean coughed and suddenly found lunch highly interesting. "Not with her. With you. When you were little."

Sam blinked and tried to focus on what he remembered. He had to have been young, younger than five at least. His earliest recollection that he could think of was Dean pouring the milk for his Lucky Charms. "You did?" he asked softly.

Dean coughed and scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Sam. When Sam continued to gaze at him, Dean finally sighed and gave him a half-hearted glare. "Yeah, I did, okay? Mom used to do it for me, and...she wasn't there to do it for you. And lemme tell you, even at two, you were heavy."

Dean had only been five himself. Sam swallowed back the smile that Dean seemed to be waiting for, and decided to let his brother off the hook. "Probably didn't help that you were a shrimp back then, either."

"I was bigger than you," Dean said with annoyance, but the relief on his face was palpable. He'd suffer any injustice, Sam thought, if it meant him getting out of a chick-flick moment.

"You can actually remember that far back to what that felt like?"

A bunched up napkin bounced against the side of Sam's head, making the little one clap and giggle even more. Okay, maybe not suffer _any_ injustice.

* * *

Trying to wash up a little one's face after fries and ketchup (and seriously, the hell could someone make that much of a mess with _ketchup_?) wasn't going on Dean's list of fun. Not that she throwing tantrums, or anything.

She just kept talking. And turning her face away whenever she did so.

After three minutes of attempting to get rid of the ketchup on the tip of her nose, Dean finally tossed the napkin aside with a sigh. "I give up," he surrendered. The little one bounced off the bed and straight to the computer again, eager to get back to her bubble popping. She grabbed as far back in the chair as she possibly could, but couldn't find the leverage to pull herself up. Her feet pushed against the chair legs to no avail.

Finally she turned to him, a pout on her face. "Fissy?" she asked plaintively.

"Can you say anything else?" Dean asked, but rose off the bed anyways. He caught her gently underneath her armpits and lifted her onto the seat. She bounced upon being seated and gave him a blinding smile, and Dean took his chance to wipe the last bit of ketchup off her nose.

"Fissy!" she exclaimed cheerfully.

He had her attention, at least. "How about 'puppy'," Dean tried, giving her as bright as smile as he could manage. "Can you say 'puppy'?"

"Fissy!"

Dean pursed his lips and tried again. "Kitty?"

"Fissy!"

He didn't even have to look in Sam's direction to figure out the face his brother would be wearing. "Shut up, Sam," he warned.

"I didn't say anything," Sam objected, but Dean could hear the grin clearly in his tone. Bitch.

"Fissy fissy!" the little one chirped.

"Doggy?"

"Fissy!"

"Birdy?"

"Fissy!"

"You're not playing the game right," Sam said, and Dean glanced up as his brother came over and crouched down beside them. He smiled at the little one, and she in turn smiled back. "Honey, what's the thing that swims in the water with fins?"

"Fissy!" she answered dutifully.

"I win," Sam declared, standing and moving back to the bed. Dean leveled a glare at the back of his brother's head, but Sam ignored him.

The little one bounced again. "Fissy?" she asked.

Dean rolled his eyes and opened the laptop, then clicked the window of the bubble website up. The little one scooted up onto her knees and waited with her hand eagerly over the mouse. When Dean realized she was waiting for him to move the moused, he flicked it to the right and used his other hand to prop up his chin on the table. Down came her finger on the button, and a moment later, she shrieked in glee.

"Need any help with the research?" Dean asked hopefully towards Sam, who was sprawled out contentedly on the bed.

"Nope," Sam replied cheerfully. "I'm good, thanks."

"Fissy!" Two tiny hands caught hold of and shook Dean's arm slightly, dragging his attention back to the impatient toddler. "Fissy!" she demanded again.

Hadn't Dean had enough of obeying a toddler's orders to satisfy karma and the universe for one lifetime? Especially when the previous toddler was trying not to snicker at him from the bed?

Apparently not. Dean nudged the mouse again and watched her finger dive-bomb the button. More giggling exploded from the simple, animated bubble popping on the screen, and Sam wasn't able to hold back a snicker.

"Seriously Sammy, you don't have anything?" Dean asked, and he was _not_ pleading. Really. The little one was adorable.

"Fissy!" Another impatient tug with her hands, and a frustrated pout on her face. He almost flicked the mouse again, then leaned forward, another idea in mind. He caught her tiny hand and placed it on the mouse, then slowly moved it, her hand guiding the way.

Her eyes widened in wonderment and joy. "Fissy!"

"Glad to make your day," Dean muttered, standing and heading over to Sam. The little one was completely entranced by being able to both move the mouse and click the button. It'd keep her occupied for the next five minutes, at least. "Anything at all?"

Sam looked at him with an odd expression for a moment, then finally shook his head. "Nothing. I'm telling you, if it weren't for the bodies showing up, I'd say this wasn't our type of thing at all. There's no pattern, no history of deaths...they're all just unrelated maulings at different times, different people."

"Like an animal attack," Dean said as he took a seat on the bed next to Sam.

"Except there's no tracks, either," Sam replied with a sigh. "So...don't ask me."

"But it could be an animal, right?" When Sam started to disagree, Dean glared at him. "Dude, gimme _something_ here, all right? Just let me have one idea to hold onto for now."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Anything to help you sleep at night, Dean. Say it is an animal: there haven't been any tracks, or drag marks."

"It was muddy," Dean offered. Another shriek and chorus of giggles followed his reply.

Sam tossed a fond look towards the little one before turning back to Dean. "It'd have to be a water monster. And it's not that there's only a few of those."

"How many of them are actual animals, though?" Dean asked. "Nothing too supernatural about them, just wanting to chomp the nearest available person?"

"Fissy!" the little one said again. Dean glanced over and watched as she slid out of the chair, hurrying over to the side of the bed and gazing up at him with her big, blue eyes. "Fissy fissy!"

Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to Sam, who was staring at the little one as if he'd never seen her before. "Sammy?"

"We really are off our game, aren't we?" Sam said, before swiveling over to Dean.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the one who's been gone for a few years; I've been hunting."

"Yeah, and you've been just as dense as I've been," Sam replied, then turned to the little one. "Say it again, sweetie."

"Fissy!" the little one supplied helpfully.

Sam turned back to Dean expectantly, and it suddenly hit him in a moment of realization. He could've sworn he even felt a little heat when the light bulb above his head went off. "Where did you find her?" Sam asked, as if Dean hadn't figured it out already.

"Around the pond," Dean said with a groan. Their biggest clue had been right there with them for the past several hours, saying again and again what they'd been trying to find.

"Fissy!" she said happily, clapping her hands together. "Fissy fissy fissy!"

Dean slowly turned back to Sam, who looked just as chagrined as Dean felt. "Guess it _is_ an animal," Dean said with a weak grin. "Starting point, right?"

Sam merely sighed and stood. "Keep her occupied; I'm gonna need her bubble popping machine."


	3. Chapter 3

It'd been a long and hard argument that neither of them had felt like making, but in the end, they'd been forced to bring the little one along. Sam wanted to leave her in the car, the safest route, and Dean had killed the idea just as fast. "Forget it. As much as I'd love to leave her in the hotel room, we can't. Dreamworld scenario, no one would come in, she wouldn't hurt herself trying to get up onto a chair, but that's not gonna happen. And as for leaving her in the car, it's also not gonna work. One, the locks on my baby are, regrettably, easy enough to pop. Two, I'm not leaving her alone with my baby. Three, cops, Sam. We leave a kid in the car on a chilly night like this, and we'll get slammed."

"We can't bring her along on the actual hunt, Dean," Sam had insisted. "It's a _hunt_. She can't be more than _three_. This is a bad idea."

"Then one of us is just gonna have to babysit her," Dean had said, and just his tone had implied exactly who he thought should do the babysitting.

Despite her rambling in the car as they'd built a makeshift car seat as best as they could for her, she kept quiet once they reached the park. It was dark out, which had maybe enforced the idea of silence with her.

Sam highly doubted it had been the "shhh"s Dean had practiced and repeated while climbing out of the car, but who knew?

The park was deserted, and considering it was only really eight at night, Sam was a little surprised. Maybe the mutilations had done their work in ensuring people kept away from the pond.

The mutilations had finally turned up something for Sam as well. The land itself had never technically belonged to them, but from what Sam had read, a Native American tribe called the Kiowa had probably come through the area before they'd ended up a few states away in Oklahoma. In their folklore, they'd spoken of a few watery beasts, but the one that had kept popping was the Zemaguani. And, from various other sources, there was possible scientific evidence that the damn thing was real.

"What's this thing called again?" Dean asked quietly as they moved through the park.

Sam sighed and came to a stop, glaring at his brother. "No."

"What?"

"I know why you want to know, Dean. And _no_."

"Just one more time, and I'll stop, I swear," Dean said with an unrepentant grin.

Sam finally sighed and conceded. "The horned alligator."

Dean snickered. Even as Sam was about to tell him off, the little one turned around from her determined march and put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh!" she stage whispered, before she headed off again.

It was Sam's turn to chuckle, even as Dean looked affronted. "I liked 'fissy' better," he mumbled, and in two quick strides they were caught up to the little one again.

They wandered through the paths, carefully and quietly after that. Whenever Sam glanced over at his brother, he found Dean standing and moving directly in front of the little one, keeping her always within arm's reach. The little one wasn't apprehensive, but she wasn't going anywhere, either, staying as close to Dean as she could get.

"I think you should be the one to babysit," Sam said softly. The glare from Dean was completely expected. "I'm serious."

"No, you're funny," Dean shot back, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm _serious_. Who's she hanging behind?" Dean paused for a moment, and the little one dutifully stopped as well. Sam began to smile as he added, "Besides, you do a good job at keeping little ones safe. That much I remember."

The look Sam got then, the small pleased smile, was totally worth the pretended, annoyed eye-roll he received immediately afterwards. "You're such a girl," Dean mumbled. "But I'm not babysitting her. You will."

"I don't think so," Sam said.

"Now I'm the one being serious." Dean's tone made Sam glance back in surprise. "I mean it, Sammy. I'm not just good at protective little ones. I kinda like keeping the big ones safe, too. And that means you're back far enough away from this thing, but not far enough to not take a shot."

For all the annoying, big brotherly things Dean could do, this was worth them all. "Yeah, all right," Sam said, his chest warming and his smile broadening.

Dean rolled his eyes even harder this time and gave Sam a mock shove. "Chick-flick," he accused, before continuing on.

The little one paused beside Sam and asked, "Fissy?"

"It's okay," Sam answered. "He does that sometimes. He doesn't mean it, though." He bent down slightly and extended his hand to the little one, and she gave a bright smile before reaching up to put her tiny hand in his.

* * *

Two hours later, and Dean was kinda tired of sitting on the ground. They had to stay near the pond, which meant he couldn't sit on the benches on the path, and what kind of park didn't even have benches near the _pond_?

Not that he was blaming them, considering what happened to people near the pond, but still. His ass was a little numb at that point.

They'd made their way through the entire park, finally getting to the pond. No movement, no growling, no tracks, nothing. Nothing but quiet water and moonlight.

He glanced over near the base of the tree, further back from the pond than Dean was. Sam was taking off his jacket, and after a moment, Dean had to grin: Little Miss Fissy had fallen asleep against the tree trunk. The jacket was gently laid over her, and she slept on, unaware.

Sam glanced over towards Dean then, and when he caught his brother looking, he gave a smile of his own and made his way down towards Dean. "She's been out like a light for the past fifteen minutes," Sam said quietly. "One minute, she was telling me 'fissy' as softly as she could, the next..." He snapped his fingers. "I don't think I've ever seen someone fall asleep that fast."

"You used to do it all the time," Dean said, then pursed his lips shut and turned back to watch the pond a little ahead of him. Crap. He just had to ask for a chick-flick moment, didn't he?

Sam was quiet for a moment, then finally said, "You, uh, seem to have some experience with little ones trailing after you." He sounded amused, the bitch, and Dean turned a glare at him in time to see Sam try and smother his smile.

After a moment of silence, Dean finally sighed and gave in. "And saying the same thing over and over again. I've had a _lot_ of experience with that."

"Wait. You mean _I_..."

"Oh yeah," Dean said, then raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You don't remember that?"

Slowly Sam shook his head. "You couldn't have been more than two or three yourself," Dean said softly, then grinned at the memories. An itty bitty Sammy, big eyes and bigger hair and the sweetest, brightest smile anyone could have.

And Dean was _not_ going to admit that he'd do anything to see a smile like that on Sam's face again, because this was enough of a chick-flick moment as it was. Even in his own head.

"You used to follow me around everywhere I went. I couldn't walk without you trailing behind me like a puppy. Had to sit next to me in the restaurants, in the car, in the motels...I remember once, when we were in a store, you got separated from me for maybe five minutes. I found out when you started crying 'Deannie' over and over again."

"'Deannie'?" Sam asked incredulously.

Dean glanced at his brother. "You seriously don't remember any of this?"

"No, but keep going," Sam said. He looked enthralled with the idea, so with another eye roll Dean continued.

"Everywhere you went, you said 'Deannie' to _everything_. People'd ask you your name, you'd say 'Deannie'. Ask you what you wanted at the diners, 'Deannie'. Favorite color, what you wanted, what you were wearing, the answer was always 'Deannie'."

"I drove you nuts, didn't I," Sam said knowingly.

"Damn straight you did," Dean replied without hesitation. Sam snorted, and even Dean grinned. "It was kinda cool, though. Not everyday a guy gets made into a word of fascination and has his own midget stalker."

Sam heaved a sigh, and Dean's grin grew. It'd made Sam easier to find, too, and that day in the store, it'd been especially useful. Dean wasn't going to sit and explain how he'd panicked when Sam hadn't been behind him, how his chest had gotten tight when Sam had started crying, because, well, it'd take a lot of time. And the needle for the chick-flick gauge was buried deeply in one end, and Dean was done. Sam'd gotten enough chick-flick moment for the _year_.

"When did I stop with the whole 'Deannie' thing?" Sam asked.

Dean gave him a sideways glance and said, "When you learned the word 'chocolate'."

Sam did laugh then, but it was soft enough to hear a suddenly wide awake and cheerful voice behind them call out, "Fissy!"

The pond surged all at once, and Dean scrambled to his feet. "Sammy, go!" he shouted, and Sam was already running back to the little one. The horns came out first, then the teeth, and Dean got a glimpse of dark red eyes before he leveled the shotgun at its head and fired.

The horned alligator reared back for a moment, then came at him again. Dean fired another shot, sending it back a few feet, then stepped a few back himself to reload. The thing came at him again, and the shot came from further back, sending it stumbling into the mud around the pond.

And, of course, setting its sights on its new attacker, who was sitting by the tree, reloading himself, with the little one dutifully covering her ears.

"Screw this," Dean muttered and pulled out his handgun, firing off several shots at the alligator's head. Silver bullets hit home, one right after the other, and the thing dropped. And stayed dropped.

Dean stared at the corpse warily, but the eyes were open and sightless, and it wasn't moving. The thing was dead.

"That's _it_?"

Slowly Dean turned to his brother, who looked surprised and possibly a little disgusted. "We've spent days looking for this thing, and that's _it_?" Sam repeated again. "We didn't even have to research anything, we could've just come down to the pond and-"

"Sam," Dean said, and Sam stopped short.

"What?"

"Shut up."

Sam couldn't even come up with a reply before the sound of sirens filled the air. "Fissy!" the little one exclaimed, clapping her hands at the sounds.

Dean hung his head and sighed.

* * *

Red and blue lights filled the night sky as the police scanned the area. A local scientist had been awakened by an onlooker with a cell phone, and was down near the pond, furiously trying to claim the proof of the horned alligator.

Thank god the cops hadn't told him about the two strangers responsible for killing it, who'd been taking a walk with their very licensed guns when the thing had suddenly attacked them. The little one had been hiding near the tree, and wasn't harmed in the slightest.

Sam sat back further on the park bench and watched the proceedings. "Why can't we just leave?" Dean whined.

"Because the cops need to make sure that the area's contained, that they have our statements, and that the guns are really licensed." Dean's eyes got comically round, and Sam savored the image for a moment before adding, "But I think since they're so grateful the thing's dead, they probably won't notice the paperwork missing for awhile."

Even before Sam pulled the papers out of his pocket, Dean was glaring at him. "If we weren't in the presence of a little one, you'd be hearing a lot of names," Dean threatened.

Sam grinned and glanced down at the little one between them, who was happily kicking her feet from where she sat. "I'm sure you do. And quit whining, because I know you're not leaving until someone comes to find her."

The cops were moving suddenly, and Sam glanced up at the commotion, only to find them trying to hold back a young woman. She was a young, pretty blonde thing, and she looked frantic, even as the cops tried to calm her down. As they got closer, Sam could make out what she was saying.

"...this high, and she was with an elderly woman this morning, our neighbor who watches her, and you don't understand, she's _three_, and she's my little sister-"

"Sissy!" the little one called from the bench, and the young woman's head whipped towards them.

"_Now_ you say something else," Dean muttered, but the little one was already clambering off the bench. The woman was racing past the cops towards her, and a few seconds later, the little one was being swept up into her arms.

"Oh god, Emily," the woman whispered, holding her tight. "I was so scared..."

"We found her this morning, actually," Sam offered as he stood. The woman tore her gaze from the little one, _Emily_, and Sam smiled. "I'm Sam. This is my brother, Dean. We called the police, tried to see if anyone was missing a little one, but..."

"Thank you so much," the woman whispered, then laughed through her tears. "Emily's my little sister, and my parents are out of town, but I had to go to work so Mrs. Wemberly watched her." She frowned slightly. "The cops haven't found her, but she wouldn't have just left Emily."

Sam merely glanced at Dean. The little one being left alone in the park that morning made a lot more sense now. No need to tell the big sister that; she looked freaked enough as it was.

She glanced at Emily and raised her eyebrow, still sniffling. "No more babysitters for you, okay? Just big sis."

"Fissy!" Emily exclaimed, and the woman glanced over at Sam with confusion.

"We didn't do it," Dean declared, holding his hands up.

Sam rolled his eyes. "She kept saying that when we found her."

The woman glanced at Emily briefly, then sighed. "Sissy, fissy, it's all the same," she finally said. "But thank you, both of you. You have no idea how much she means to me."

"Actually, I think we do," Sam said, and even before he caught sight of Dean's exasperated face, he was grinning. He turned away, Dean stepping up to walk beside him.

"Didn't we do enough chick-flick moments earlier?" Dean complained. "Seriously man. Leave me a shred of dignity here."

"You're the one who told me all about little me-"

"_Fissy_!"

The plaintive cry made them both turn back to see Emily reaching past her sister, whimpering and sniffling with her eyes locked on Dean. "Fissy fissy _fissy_!" she cried again with a hiccup.

"Emily, what...?" The woman went from surprised to shocked when Dean hurried back over and took the little one's hands in his own.

"_Fissy_," she whimpered miserably. "Fissy, fissy, fissy-"

"Hey, what's going on here?" Dean said softly, bending down to give her a smile. "You're gonna be fine sweetie, okay?"

Emily didn't look convinced. "Fissy," she said again, then sniffled.

"Hey, you've got your big sis now. That means she's awesome by default," Dean joked. When the little one still didn't look convinced, he sighed and gently brushed away hair from her forehead. "You were a big help today, and I'm glad I found you." He tapped the end of her nose and finally got a giggle. "You be good, okay? Fissy?" he added after a moment.

"Fissy," she agreed, and Dean grinned, even as he stepped away and back towards Sam. This time, Emily waved instead of cried, and Dean waved back. Sam waved too, and then Emily's sister carried her in the other direction. Emily rested her little head on her sister's shoulder and smiled at them until they disappeared in the sea of people.

Dean still had a small smile on his face, and Sam couldn't help but push his luck. "I think it's actually all big siblings who are awesome by default," he said, and Dean's smile got a little wider and a tiny bit sappier for just a moment.

Then he rolled his eyes and elbowed Sam. "Bitch," he said, stepping ahead of Sam. "You comin' or what?"

Sam only shook his head and followed behind him. "Should I call you 'Deannie' now?"

"Only if you want to get slapped really hard."

"Deannie. Deannie Deannie. Deannie Deannie-"

"Oh my god, don't you _dare_."

END


End file.
